


Ripped at the Seams

by Random_Footnotes



Category: Love Simon (2018), Love Victor (TV 2020)
Genre: Also 1x05 and 1x06 happen in a different order because of reasons, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Mia is therefore less willing to entertain his bullshit excuses, Anxiety, Coming Out, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, In which things are only slightly different, In which things are simultaneously better and worse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, The one where Victor's panic attack about sex is a little worse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Footnotes/pseuds/Random_Footnotes
Summary: Canon divergent from 1x06.Victor panics even harder the night he and Mia are supposed to hook up. Mia makes him talk about it, and things go a little differently from there.On found family and supportive friends, and figuring yourself out in high school, but with a little help.
Relationships: Benjamin "Benji" Campbell/Victor Salazar, Lake Meriwether/Felix Weston, Pilar Salazar & Victor Salazar, Victor Salazar & Felix Weston, Victor Salazar & Mia Brooks
Comments: 54
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy All! 
> 
> So I just moved across the country all by myself and suddenly have a lot more time to myself. I just finished binging this show and had some writerly thoughts about it (not unusual), but actually have a bunch of time to myself (my new usual), so I figured I'd give it a go. It has been... Probably more than 10 years since I wrote any fanfiction? And most of what I write currently are patient progress notes, so hopefully, this isn't offensive to the eyes or brain.
> 
> This particular plot bunny was born because 1) Mia deserves better and 2) I'd like to explore a bit about how helpful and wonderful having a group of friends to lean on can be when dealing with potentially homophobic family. The show did this a little when Victor got to go to New York, but I want them to be Victor's friends, not Simon's friends who have adopted Victor (which is adorable, we stan). Thus this AU. Not really a romance fic per se, but the canon relationships will occur similarly. This will basically be a re-write of the back half of the season, including 1x05, which will occur after 1x06, for reasons.
> 
> Trigger warning in the first chapter for panic attacks, internalized homophobia, and a brief allusion to a potential rape/non-con (it was an assumption, it never happened, but a character worries it might have).

Victor loses himself in the mechanics, pressing lips to lips, a swipe of the tongue, pressing hands against a body. This is fine, he can do this. It was just like basketball, focusing on how to twist his shoulders, shift his weight, shoot the ball, not thinking about the burn in his lungs or the pressure to win. Almost meditative, just take each step as it comes. Just be a body following a script. This is fine. He presses further forward. He can do this.

Mia lets out an awkward giggle, “Do you wanna... uh, sit down? This hard wall is starting to hurt my head.”

Reality snaps back into place, and he freezes as she slips by him, air punching out of his lungs. Oh God, he’d been hurting her. “Uh, yeah, yeah sure, uh” He turns slowly, and sees her sitting expectantly on her bed, looking at him with wide, sweet eyes, head cocked questioningly.

He’d been hurting her because he wasn’t paying attention, because he was _trying_ not to notice her. He can feel his heart jackhammering in his chest, and he draws a couple of fast breaths, trying to calm his screaming nerves, psyching himself back up. God, how messed up was that? Lovely, perfect Mia, who wants this, who wants him to want this.

His stomach feels like lead, and the room is too hot, too small, the air too thin. What was he doing? Why did he feel like he wanted to rip his own skin off to get out?

He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the small thought whispering in his mind _“you know why.”_

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute.” He turns heel and bolts for the bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind him.

He hangs over the sink, trying to get control of his breathing. He turns on the faucet and splashes some water on his face, but it doesn’t seem to help. His skin buzzes painfully, there is a vice grip around his chest, he can hear his own heart thudding in his ears. And he can’t get enough air into his lungs, can’t get enough oxygen to sustain his galloping pulse.

He backs up against the wall behind him, dropping like a puppet whose strings have been cut. God, he was so fucked up. The most perfect girl, quite possibly his favorite person in the world, was outside the door right now, probably sad and confused because her _boyfriend_ couldn’t even get past first base without _freaking the hell out,_ because he was _lying lying lying…_

He draws his legs into himself, wrapping his arms around them, knocking his head against the wall as his breath continues to come in ragged, quick gasps that can’t seem to bring in any air. He has to get up, he has to go out there and tell Mia… _something_. He can’t think, his mind racing wildly, going nowhere.

Suddenly, Mia’s face appears in front of him, lips pursed, eyes wide. “Victor?”

He tries to make his lips form words, say something _anything_ in response to her, but he can only swallow convulsively, panting. Mia’s concerned face scrunches up further, and he feels her take his cold, clammy hands in hers, bringing them towards her heart.

“God, Victor, it’s okay. It’s okay, breathe. Take a deep breath.” He feels her chest rise and fall as she follows her own command.

He takes gulping breaths, trying to match the gentle rise and fall of Mia’s chest, but it feels like suffocating.

“Breathe in, one two three, breathe out, one two three. You’re okay Victor. It’s going to be okay, it’s fine.” Mia continues a gentle stream of comforting words and counting breaths and he slowly finds himself better able to follow along, blowing out long extended whooshes of air as Mia rubs his shoulder and clutches his hands.

“I’m sorry” he manages to get out once his breathing was more under control. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“No sweetie, no. It’s okay, it’s fine, you’re fine.” Mia squeezes his hands from where she holds them, and drops onto the floor beside him, pressing up against his side.

“No, it’s not. It’s not okay, I’m sorry. It’s not you. I’m so sorry.”

He feels her hum sadly beside him, before her fingers reach out to his cheeks, wiping away tears he hadn’t realized he’d let fall. “We can talk in a minute, just come here for now.” She wraps an arm around him, and he finds his face pressed against her shoulder as her hands draw comforting little circles on his back. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He lets out a shuddering sob against her shoulder, burying his face in her neck, and allows himself a moment of catharsis as she holds him, murmuring comforting words above him.

Finally, he raises his head from her smaller frame, wiping his own cheeks. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

Mia just hums again, before squeezing his hand and pulling him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

She leads him back to the bedroom, sitting him down on the bed, before going back to the bathroom and running the faucet for a moment. She returns with a glass of water, which she presses into his hand. “Drink.” Its an unambiguous order and he follows it, the cool water soothing his throat.

Mia sits down on the bed across from him, pulling her own legs up to her chest, mirroring the position he had been in earlier. “Victor… what was that? Are you okay?”

He can’t meet her gaze, feels his cheeks aflame. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m fine now.”

She purses her lips unhappily, looking at him carefully. “Victor… That’s not fine. I’m pretty sure that was a panic attack.” She pauses, seemingly searching for words.

He finds himself nodding, “Maybe, I don’t know.” She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. “I’ve had some…minor freak outs before. Nothing this bad.” A shiver runs down his spine thinking of it.

Mia nods, chuckling dully, seeming to shrink in on herself. “So, the thought of sleeping with me was so terrifying it caused you the worst panic attack of your life.”

His gaze shoots up to hers, “No, Mia! It’s not you! You’re beautiful. You’re like… one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.”

She shakes her head as if trying to dislodge something. “Then what is it, what’s wrong?” She asks gently.

“The truth is…” his mouth works; eyes glued to the comforter. “ _The truth is I’ve only ever been attracted to boys, but I like you so much I thought maybe I could just… force the rest into place,”_ his mind fills in.

 _“Great plan_ ,” he berates himself, “ _clearly working out **so well**_.” He should tell her; get this charade over with. He glances back at her, feels his heart squeeze at the idea of hurting her. More than that though, some tiny, pathetic part inside himself withers from the terror of someone _knowing_. “I’m… not ready.” He blows out a long puff of air, already hating himself for what he’s about to say. “I don’t know, maybe out here sex isn’t, like, a big deal, but… back where I’m from, we’re more… old fashioned.” Every word falls like sandpaper from his lips.

Mia’s eyes glint dangerously at him, her mouth a firm line. “Don’t you dare lie to me like that right now. You just had a full-blown panic attack on the floor of my bathroom for like half an hour after we barely made out.”

He opens his mouth, and closes it, feeling trapped. His eyes dart around the room, the instinct to flee rising sharply in his chest.

Mia puts her palm gently on his face, forcing him to look at her. Her face softens, “Victor, whatever it is, it’s okay, but seeing you like that was really scary. You have to tell me what’s going on so that doesn’t happen again. I never want you to be scared of me.” Her thumb sweeps over his cheek, and her brown eyes are so warm and soft that she reminds him suddenly, absurdly, of his mother.

“Did…” she pauses for a moment, hesitating, worried. “Did someone… hurt you before?”

He blinks in shock, suddenly struck with how she must see this situation. He shakes his head vehemently, “No! No, that’s not it. No, nothing like that.”

“Then what? You’re clearly not okay. You don’t have to tell me anything specific if you don’t want to, but I’m really worried about you right now.”

“I…” he bites his lip. He looks at her kind face. Thinks of her holding him on the floor of her bathroom as he cried. Thinks of earlier, of intentionally making himself not think about what he was doing so he could make out with her. He shouldn’t do this anymore. She doesn’t deserve it. And he’d been wrong. Liking her isn’t enough.

Actually, he kind of loves her, but not in the right way, not for this.

He feels raw and exposed and can feel himself trembling. He shut his eyes, looks away. “Do you promise not to hate me?” His voice comes out tiny. “Please don’t hate me.”

“What? No, of course I won’t hate you. Victor, look at me.” He shakes his head and hears her sigh. “I promise.”

He swallows, once, twice. He can feel the panic from earlier beginning to buzz around him again, prickling his skin. He clenches his eyes shut. “I really didn’t know. I thought it would be okay. I liked you so much I thought it would be okay.” Mia remains quiet, but she reaches out and holds his hand, squeezing it.

“I like you so much, but after tonight… I don’t think I like you the right way. I don’t think I _can._ ”

He falls quiet, squeezing his lips together as he feels Mia still completely beside him. The quiet seems to drag on between them, and he finally opens his eyes and looks at her. Her eyes are wet with a sheen of tears, her lower lip caught between her teeth, expression a combination of realization and sorrow. He squeezes her hand this time, feels his own eyes watering.

“I’ve been trying so hard to make this work because I’m terrified. My family… everyone… I don’t want this.” He shakes his head, tears spilling over again “I don’t want it, and you’re just _so good_ and I just…” he bites back the sob rising in his chest. “I’m so sorry Mia.”

He stills, stealing glances at her, waiting, their hands still clasped together. He feels his anxiety crawling up from his belly, breaths coming a little faster the longer she remains quiet.

“So…” she begins, very softly. “If you _can’t_ like me the right way, that’s because you like…” she trails off, giving him the opportunity to finish the sentence.

“Boys.” He voice is tiny, almost inaudible, but he gets it out nonetheless, and he feels something in himself loosen just a little bit. “I think I like boys.”

Mia lets out a small sob, but nods fervently and pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. He returns the hug fiercely, sobbing into her neck for the second time that day. She rocks them both together slowly for a few moments, before breaking apart and drawing away, dashing a hand across her face.

Suddenly, an almost hysterical giggle bursts out of her, “I kept saying how nice it was that you weren’t handsy or pushing me to be more physical earlier. Of course, I’d go ahead and like you _because_ you’re gay.”

He stills, the words ringing in his ears. Yes, he’d more or less told her that tonight, but the label falling from her lips so casually feels like a pronouncement, a verdict. “ _I don’t want to be”_ comes again to him, unbidden. He doesn’t know what his face must look like, but Mia quickly draws him back into her embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against her shoulder. They sit quietly like that for a moment.

“My family… they’re pretty religious. I wasn’t lying when I said things are more old fashioned where we come from.” He gulps, “Please, they can’t know. Please don’t tell anyone else.”

She draws him away and blinks at him. “Of course not, Victor,” she says fiercely. “Of course not. I would _never_.”

He nods, because he knows that. He does, but he feels exposed and jumpy, vulnerable in a way he’s never been before. Trusting the truest, most terrifying part of himself to another person, someone he really knows. Not just Simon, hundreds of miles away, almost a fantasy of a person. He hopes Simon will be proud of him.

“I mean, we obviously can’t date anymore,” Mia goes on, and he stills. Yes, they obviously _can’t_ date anymore, but he still aches at the idea of the loss.

“Can we still be friends?” He asks quietly, hopefully. “You’re like my favorite person and I don’t want to lose you.”

She nods thoughtfully. “I think I can manage friends. I need some time. And later, after that, I think we should talk again about what exactly you were thinking with this,” she gestures with a hand between them. “But I like spending time with you. You’re fun and sweet and I know you’re a good person. So yes, friends.”

His eyes are dangerously close to watering over _yet again_ which is far too many times in one night, but there is a kind of jubilant, soaring happiness bubbling in his chest at the idea that Mia _knows_ and she still wants to be his friend. There is also, he realizes, a profound sense of relief at getting to keep her without having to contort himself into the ill-fitting role of boyfriend. Without having to pretend to be something he’s not. He lets out a long breath and gives her a fragile smile. He draws one of her hands to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

“Thank you Mia.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 already! It's not quite as long, and kind of transitional, but it felt like a natural stopping point. Also, I have tried to figure out their transportation situation on this show, but as far as I can tell Victor literally walks everywhere? And let me just say, that's some urban design and progressive zoning I can get behind.

“So it's getting pretty late, I’m exhausted, and you said you needed some time, so I guess I should probably go…”

Victor _is_ exhausted. He feels like he could drop into bed and sleep for a full day, but he also needs to get out of here. As amazing as Mia has been, as relieved as he is, he’s increasingly aware of just how much he had lost it in front of her. The more he thinks about it, the more awkward and embarrassed he feels.

“Ok, why don’t I walk you home?” Mia is looking at him clinically, obviously still deeply worried.

“No, no… I’m good. I think I could use the time to think. And I bet you could too. I know this whole night was… a lot.”

She glances down at her hands, twisting in her lap, and nods. “Yeah.”

“Mia I…” he breaks off. He doesn’t have the words. _Thank you. I’m sorry. You’re perfect. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole._ None of which can really convey the enormous gratitude he feels for her right now, or the burning shame and regret at leading her on.

“It’s okay,” she assures him yet again, eyes still downcast.

“No, it isn’t. I didn’t…” he sighs in frustration at how inadequate his words feel. He comes and sits next to her, taking her twisting hands in his, looking at her carefully until she raises her eyes to his. “I need you to know that you deserve better. I’m _so_ _sorry_ that I hurt you or _ever_ made you feel like you don’t deserve the world.”

She lets at a little laugh, shaking her head. He squeezes her hands insistently.

“You do, Mia. You deserve everything. You’re the kindest, funniest, most beautiful girl I know. You make me feel safe and happy, and… at home. And I just need you to know, that what’s going on with me… That’s on me. I was so scared…”

He pauses, swallows. Shakes his head, shuts his eyes. Corrects himself. “Am. Am so scared. And it wasn’t fair of me to put that on you. But being around you makes me feel less scared. You’re special, Mia. No matter what, I will always adore you.”

Her eyes are brimming again, but her mouth is twisted up in a small smile that feels like a victory. She glances up, blinking hard, and laughs gently, pulling her hands away to thwack him in the side. “I’m not sure the romantic declaration is helping the situation, Victor.”

He grins widely at her. “You’re right, I’ll be sure never to compliment you again.”

She huffs dramatically, “Yeah, well, good!” Her expression becomes more serious for a moment, and she squeezes his forearm briefly. “Thank you.”

He nods at her, before slapping his legs and rising to his feet. “Okay, but actually. I should be going.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to get home by yourself? I really could come with you. Or call you a Lyft.”

He shakes his head, “I’m good, thank you though.”

“Well, at least let me walk you out,” she insists.

He grins at her indulgently, “yes, ma’am!” She thwacks him again, laughing.

He heads down the stairs just ahead of her, reaching the bottom and turning to grab his jacket from the back of the chair where he left it earlier. He pauses in surprise. Lake and Felix are sitting on the couch, making out aggressively. They don’t even seem to notice him. Mia comes to stand beside him, watching the scene before her with a raised eyebrow. She shoots him an incredulous glance, and he silently shrugs. He puts a finger to his lips and tips his head towards her front door.

They quietly make their way to the exit, and Mia carefully pulls the door shut behind her. They stare at each other for a moment, wide-eyed. Then suddenly, he finds himself giggling, which immediately sets Mia off as well, and quickly develops into full blown, uproarious belly laughing. It feels good.

“Oh my God, WHAT.” Mia finally gets out.

“I mean,” he inhales deeply to calm his laughter, “Felix has been into Lake the whole time I’ve known him.”

Mia shakes her head, “Yeah, _that’s obvious_ , but Lake? I’m surprised at _her._ ”

“Well, Felix is a great guy,” Victor defends his friend and pauses for a moment before allowing, “Weird guy, but a good one. He’ll be respectful.”

She nods at that, “I know. I’m just deeply curious about how _that_ _happened_. I mean, things were _pretty awkward_ earlier.”

He feels his cheeks heat, “Yeah, um. Sorry about that too?” He scuffs his shoe along the ground.

She just shakes her head, giggling again. “I mean, I’m not going to lie, I was pretty pissed about it earlier. But now that I understand _why_ you were freaking out, it’s honestly a little funny. It turns out you are _not smooth_ Victor Salazar.”

His jaw drops open in mock offense. “What? _Me?_ Not smooth? Lies and slander!”

She grins at him. “I’m really glad you told me, Victor. I didn’t realize how weird things had gotten between us. This is fun.”

It’s true, he finds. Even after an incredibly rough evening, their interaction feels… lighter. He gives her a nod of agreement.

“So what should we tell people?” he finds himself asking. “I don’t want to make this any harder for you.”

“Hmmm… How about…we just say that we realized that we were better off as friends?”

He nods in agreement. “And you said you needed some time. You want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“I think… yeah. Just for a little while. I’ll let you know.”

“Of course, yeah, whatever you need.”

“But Victor?” She looks at him seriously. “I’m the only person you’ve told?”

He nods silently. Probably best not try to explain Simon right now. She’s the only person in his life who knows.

“Okay, um. Obviously, this is very personal. I know I kind of pushed you into talking with me tonight. I’m not going to tell you how or when you should tell anyone else, but…” she hesitates “You can’t keep bottling everything up. If you need to talk, let me know. I know I’m probably a weird person to talk to about this, and it’ll probably be weird for me too.”

She raises her chin, looks him directly in the eyes, searchingly. “But… I want you to be safe. I’m worried about what might happen if you feel like you can’t talk to anyone. So. If I’m your only option, talk to me, no matter what. Promise me.”

“Mia, really I’m alright. It’s okay.”

She just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, fine. I promise. I’ll talk to you if I need to. But I swear, it’s nothing like that. I’m okay.”

She searches his face for another few moments, and nods, apparently satisfied. She squeezes his arm. “Alright, Salazar. Text me when you get home. And wish me luck sneaking back into my own house.” Her grin is sly.

“Will do. And best of luck with _that_ treacherous endeavor.” He grins at her and tips his head towards the path. “Goodnight, Mia.”

“Night.”

As she quietly slips back into the house, he walks down the path from her porch to the street. He slips out his phone and starts typing out a message.

_Dear Simon,_

_Tonight was… a lot. For a second there I thought I would be able to go through with it. Turns out… Not so much. Have you ever had a panic attack? Because I’m pretty sure I had one tonight, in front of Mia. She was so amazing though. She talked me through it and calmed me down. At first, I told her it was just that I wasn’t ready, but she didn’t believe me. And… after tonight I’m pretty sure that even though I really like her a lot, that it isn’t enough. I don’t like her the right way. So that’s what I told her. And I told her that I think I like guys. She took it… really surprisingly well? I mean, she wasn’t happy about it, but she doesn’t seem to hate me. She just gave me a hug. I think I really freaked her out though. Even though she said she needed time, she made me promise to talk to her if I needed to because she wanted me to be safe. I tried to tell her that I’m okay. She didn’t seem convinced, which is fair. I’m not sure I am okay._

_Love, Victor_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3, finally! This one fought me a little more on the way out, mostly because writing romance and romantic tension doesn't come as naturally for me, and these two are just... romantic tension everywhere. I'll try to keep up the schedule of updating at least once a week, but it will depend on my call schedule. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Trigger warning in this chapter for recalled homophobic remarks, and internalized homophobia.

The walk to town from Mia’s is undeniably beautiful, the old oaks taller and broader than those back home, dripping with moss. They always inspire mixed emotions in Victor, particularly tonight. They’re lovely to look at, grand, elegant…unfamiliar.

Everything here feels grand and unfamiliar. At first, it had been exciting, an adventure, an opportunity to start fresh and reinvent himself. But for all the plans he’d had, he’s still the same boy from small-town Texas, and all the wealth and urbanity here often make him feel small and uncultured.

God, sometimes he misses Texas so much it _aches_. The scrubby cedar trees, the two-lane highways winding through the hill country, outlined by blooms of riotous wildflowers, the morning song of the white wing dove, the savory smell of barbeque and fajitas, the sweet taste of Blue Bell’s classic Homemade Vanilla. The sense memories feel etched into his _soul._ But he never fit in there either, not really. How can he feel so much love for a place, feel so much _of it_ , but still not belong there?

He wishes it could be easier. That he could really _be_ the star of the basketball team with the beautiful, sweet girlfriend who he enjoys making out with, and who he eventually falls in love and lives happily ever after with. He thinks a life with Mia would be good, if only he could make himself desire her even half as much as he desires Benji making espresso, Benji on the stage singing “Call Me Maybe,” Benji cracking stupid jokes...

But he’s tried and tried and _tried,_ and it’s like trying to put together two pieces of a puzzle that don’t quite match. They look like they should fit, but they just _don’t,_ and the more you try to force them, the more damage you do, the closer they come to breaking.

He’s just getting into town when he hears the ding of an incoming message and checks his phone to find a response from Simon.

_Hey Victor,_

_I know you really like Mia and you’ve been trying to figure out if you’re attracted to her. It sounds like tonight you realized that you’re not. And that’s okay. I’m sorry it was so stressful for you. I have had panic attacks, and they’re terrible. But I’m really glad Mia was there for you and you were able to tell her how you’ve been feeling before the situation got worse. It sounds like she’s a good friend to have._

_I know it can be really hard to admit this stuff, even to yourself, so telling Mia is something to be proud of. It’s also important to accept it and eventually get to a point where you can celebrate it. For me, it wasn’t until talking with Bram, and realizing how great it could be to really like someone that I thought it might be worth it to tell anyone else._

_You can always talk to me if you’re feeling overwhelmed. Be kind to yourself and take care._

_Love, Simon_

He reads the response over several times, trying to internalize what Simon is telling him. _That’s okay… accept it… celebrate it… how great it could be_ … He wonders if anyone else in his life would agree with Simon on this, and abruptly remembers Mia, hugging him tight after he told her he thinks he likes boys, even though he knew she was mourning her lost vision for the future.

He wonders if Mia or Simon ever sat in church and listened to the congregation murmur their agreement as the priest sermonized about how corrupt the culture had become, with all the glamourous depictions of drug use, alcohol abuse, pre-marital sex, and _sodomy_. Or heard the host on the talk radio show his dad’s truck was always tuned to talking about the _“homosexual agenda”_ and how _“traditional American values are under assault._ ” Somehow, he doesn’t think so, and he can’t tell if he’s resentful or glad about that fact.

Victor finds his feet have taken him to Brasstown, as they often do nowadays when he’s wandering. He’s surprised to see Benji still here, by himself, apparently cleaning up after his anniversary date. For a moment, he stands there and watches him through the window, chest full, bursting with wistful, bubbling warmth.

Before he can overthink it, he opens the door and heads inside.

Benji notices him immediately, and he sends him an awkward wave.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing… how did _Trattoria de Benji_ go?”

“Fine,” Benji answers flatly, with a sort of dismissive half-shrug. “So… how was your big date?”

Victor is quiet for a moment, considering. His conversation with Mia still feels like a wound, fresh, and aching. He’s sure he must look miserable.

“We…uh… we broke up. So, um…pretty badly?” he forces a pathetic chuckle from his lips.

“Oh…” Benji looks unsure and earnestly miserable on his behalf, one arm lifting and dropping in an aborted move. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, uh,” he swallows, his voice thicker than he expected. “It just wasn’t working out? We talked and decided we’re better off as friends.” He nods to himself a couple of times. “And we are. Better off as friends.”

“Still, that’s rough. Are you okay?” Benji is openly studying his face, eyes roaming, lingering on his still reddened eyes, his drawn and exhausted features. “You look… not okay.”

He laughs falsely again. “Not really. I will be though, I think. Part of me is relieved, honestly. But mostly I just wish things would be easier.”

Benji is still looking at him closely, almost searchingly. He gives a neutral “hmmm,” encouraging Victor to continue.

Abruptly, Victor realizes the line he’s toeing, the truth he’s starting to outline the shape, if not the name of. Is he going to do this again tonight? Benji would be supportive, obviously. And a large part of him wants to tell Benji everything, the whole sordid tale. But telling Benji would be vastly different than telling Mia. More intimate… and more dangerous. Whatever else he’s been confused about recently; he’s never doubted that he _wants_ Benji. Now, having gotten to know him, he _likes_ Benji. And tonight, emotionally wrung out as he is, he doesn’t trust what he’d do after telling him.

And _that_ is enough to send an icy shot of dread down his spine. _No, I can’t._ He blows out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. _No._

“Um, can we not talk about it? Sorry, it’s been a rough night.”

Benji shakes his head like he’s shaking something off. “Of course, sorry. I didn’t mean to press. Is there anything I can do?”

“Distract me? Tell me about your fancy anniversary dinner.”

Benji seems to grimace with his whole body.

“Or… not.”

“No, it’s okay. It went well, I guess. Just wasn’t everything I’d been hoping for. Derek had his heart set on going to the show and I don’t think he expected me to have other plans. So we had dinner and he went ahead to the show.”

Victor frowns. He’d only met Derek briefly, but from everything Benji has said about him, and the fact that they’ve dated for _a year_ , Victor had expected him to be a little more… gallant than that. Leaving early from the anniversary dinner his boyfriend had clearly put a lot of thought and effort into was clearly a dick move. There is obviously more to the story than Benji has volunteered, but Victor’s hardly in a position to be throwing stones here.

Instead, he gives Benji a wry half-smile. “Well, aren’t we quite the pair?”

Benji gives a short, genuine laugh. “We are indeed.”

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted? Working on your latte art?”

“Yep!” Benji’s cheer seems only partly false, and Victor ambles forward to take a look. “I _think_ I might actually be getting better.”

That causes a real grin to split Victor’s face, and he can’t help but tease a little bit. “Reeeeally?” He settles in against the counter.

“Mm-hmm. Wanna try?”

Victor eyes the pitcher full of frothed milk, still steaming. Why not? “Yeah.”

“The trick is to pour quickly. What do you wanna make?”

“How about…” he ponders for a moment, before inspiration strikes. “A meatball. _So ugly_ but _so_ delicious.”

Benji bursts out into a small giggle, suppressing a grin. Victor smiles brightly at him as he shakes head ruefully.

Victor grabs the mug and the pitcher, and Benji leans over him closely. “Alright, start there,” he points towards the side of the cup, “and then pour it in the center.” Victor starts pouring, trying his best to pay attention to Benji’s instructions and ignore how distracting his solid warmth is right next to him.

“That’s it, there you go.” Benji grabs the mug near Victor’s hand to change the angle a little, their fingers almost touching, and Victor’s heart skitters in his chest.

“Yep you got it, that looks like a meatball to me.” Benji withdraws his hand from the mug and turns around to grab something from the counter.

Victor looks down at his work, and honest to God, it looks like every latte he’s ever poured. He supposes the circle of white foam in the center could be a meatball, but, truthfully, he’s a little skeptical of Benji’s teaching prowess here. And his latte art prowess to begin with. Nonetheless, as Benji turns back around with a toothpick in his hand, Victor listens attentively.

“You can do a lot after you pour it actually. See, here we can add some dimension…” Benji dips the tip of the toothpick into the foam, carefully dragging it in his desired pattern. Their shoulders are pressed together as they both stare intently at the foamy surface. Victor feels intently aware of his left arm in a way he’s never been before, tingling with warmth.

“Mmmm… I see.” Victor nods along.

“And _voila!_ ” Benji proclaims with a flourish as he raises his toothpick from the foam. “A meatball!”

“Perhaps the most beautiful meatball the world has ever seen,” Victor replies, grinning.

They both stare down at the vaguely spherical shape floating atop the coffee.

“You know…” Victor starts, “I don’t think a meatball is the most identifiable object. Might have been a bad call on my part.”

Benji shakes his head seriously, his lips pressed together, eyes bright with suppressed laughter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That couldn’t be anything _but_ a meatball. It’s worthy of awards.”

Victor laughs and batts him on the arm. Benji grins sideways at him.

Victor clears his throat and raises his hand to his mouth like he’s holding a microphone. “Oh my gosh, this is so unexpected! Well, first of all, I’d like to thank the man who taught me everything I know… Benjamin Campbell everybody!”

Benji makes a sound somewhere between laughter and choking. He gradually gets himself under control. “Victor Salazar, you are absolutely _never_ allowed to call me that again. The only people who call me Benjamin are my parents—when they’re pissed at me.”

Victor nods his agreement, still giggling. “Okay, whatever you say… Benjamin.”

Benji lets out a squawk of indignation, before grabbing at Victor’s shoulder. The two of them wrestle for a moment before Victor allows himself to end up in a headlock, receiving a rough noogie, laughing hysterically.

“What’s my name, Salazar?”

“Benji,” he gasps out between his bouts of laughter.

“Good,” Benji releases him, seemingly satisfied with his victory, and the two of them just stand there in each other’s space, grinning.

_I could kiss him_ , Victor thinks, eyes darting down to Benji’s red lips, stretched into a wide smile. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck, glancing down, breaking the moment.

“Hey man, thanks. I was really…” Victor trails off, his previous emotional state far too complicated and revealing to explain right now. “Just, thanks.”

Benji’s smile becomes a little softer. “Anytime.”

“I should probably get going unless you want me to fall asleep on one of the tables… It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, I bet. I should probably finish locking up and head out as well. Not exactly normal business hours we’re keeping here.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Nah man, I got it. Go home and get some rest.” Benji claps him on the shoulder, giving him a brief squeeze. Victor resists the urge to pull him into a hug, or something equally embarrassing.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Benji nods.

Tomorrow. _M_ _añana,_ Victor thinks. It feels like a promise.


End file.
